


Hard Left

by takeyouraim



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-04-07 15:09:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19087546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeyouraim/pseuds/takeyouraim
Summary: Inspired by a tweet (that I am trying to find again to credit!). Quinn Fabray, bored during a flight delay, makes the mistake of pulling up Tinder in public. She's swiping absently, and gives a hard left to a woman that doesn't catch her eye. Much to her dismay (and eventual pleasure), that woman is sitting right behind her.After an intense night together, Quinn returns to work as a homicide detective. A new detective joins the squad, and Quinn's professional facade is forced to unravel.





	1. Chapter 1

Quinn’s sigh fell from her lips the moment she fell ungracefully into the chair. Her carryon rested next to her as other passengers filed out from the plane. Some continued further into the airport, while others chose seats like Quinn did. She pulled out her phone and scanned the notifications. Her mother, asking for the fifth time what her flight information was. Her sister, sending a photo of the kids wishing her good luck. Audible, she had a new credit. At least that could kill time. Tinder. Why the hell not? She opened the application, and felt someone sit down behind her. Paying them no mind, she started to swipe through.

Overly muscled guy in a backwards cap and no shirt. Left.

Woman with short hair and looks a little dangerous. Right.

Cute guy with glasses in a sweater and tie. Left. She’d only break his heart.

Left. Left. Right. Left. Right.

Duck lips, too much cleavage, perhaps not wearing a bra. And way too much makeup. Left. Imagine having a conversation with her.

“Wow. Hard left on her, huh?” The voice came from behind her. It was smooth, silky and playful. Still, Quinn raised one eyebrow and turned, ready to scold the person for looking over her shoulder.

And there she was. The same duck-lipped, too much cleavage, still not wearing a bra with a little less make-uped woman that Quinn had just swiped left on.

Quinn did what she could to hide her shock and embarrassment. She didn’t look so obnoxious in person. “And yet I still find myself talking to you,” she said as she turned a little further.

The woman’s grin grew even more. “It’s fate,” she said. “What was it? You don’t like my picture? So many people compliment me on it.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “I am so not getting into a debate about fate with a stranger,” she muttered under her breath. “You’re just not my type,” she said a little louder.

“Oh, I doubt that. I’m everyone’s type, in one way or another. I’m Santana.” She introduced herself, and her dark brown eyes went from Quinn’s hazel ones and down her body. “And you’re mine,” she added, meeting her eyes with a grin again.

Quinn let out a long sigh and shook her head. She didn’t realize she was smiling. “One trait I admire is humility.” She said the word slowly, as though teaching someone how to pronounce it. Santana's eyeroll was hard and pronounced. Quinn raised her eyebrows. “You know… nothing of what you’ve shown me so far,” she added with a small chuckle. “Now, I’m going to go back to finding someone who might actually get my attention.” She turned back to her phone, willing her burning cheeks to cool off.

"Vocabulary lesson..." Quinn heard hummed behind her. "I can think of something better you can do."

* * *

After refusing to engage with the admittedly witty Santana, Quinn had her headphones in, listening to an audiobook. She had to do something to stop herself from talking to the other woman more. Quinn was one of the last to board the plane. She saw no reason to wait in line for other people to find their seats, stow their luggage, and to sit there for even longer while other people did the same. She always checked her baggage anyway.

She walked along the narrow aisle, her eyes flicking down the numbered seats. She stopped at row G. Her seat, the aisle, was empty. The window seat next to hers, however, was not.

"Hiya Teach," Santana said, smirking at her.

Quinn groaned as she sat down in her seat. Reluctantly, she pulled her headphones out. "Apparently the universe has decided I have to talk to you," she muttered.

Santana laughed. "Five hour flight, Blondie. Plenty of time for you to explain why I'm not your type," she grinned.

Quinn closed her eyes for a moment and willed her self control to tough it out. Five hours. Five hours, and Quinn would be home in New York. She could get back to work tomorrow.

"What had you in LA?"

Quinn looked over at her. Now she wanted some basic conversation? "Um... My mom moved out here a few years ago. Some sort of mid-life crisis after my dad's hundredth affair," she told her. She had been so caught off guard by Santana asking her a normal question that she answered truthfully. "You?" she asked, glancing over at her. She actually was incredibly attractive.

"Oh, I'm from here. Moved to New York a few years ago. It was my niece's quinceañera." Santana looked out the window as the plane started to move. They were both ignoring the flight attendants as they gave the same safety instruction everyone had heard too many times.

Quinn chuckled softly. "Do you usually spend time on Tinder when you're with family?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Santana matched her look. "Do you usually spend time on Tinder in an airport? What... looking for a bathroom quickie?" she asked, then laughed when Quinn's face turned red. "Let me guess... You're well behaved. Have you ever had sex in a public place? When your partner has to cover your mouth so you don't get caught?"

At least she was keeping her voice down. But Quinn could hear the amusement in Santana's voice. It was only fueled by Quinn's deepening blush. "Santana..." Quinn hissed.

Santana leaned down, her lips coming closer to her ears. "Is it because you're loud? Girls like you are always loud."

Quinn snapped her gaze to Santana. Which was evidently a mistake, because if the plane hit a bump, they'd be kissing. "What do you mean 'girls like me'? You know nothing about me."

"Girls who blush when someone talks about sex."

Quinn's gaze snapped forward again. "Strangers. When strangers talk about sex. Because you are a stranger," she muttered.

Santana just shrugged. "Never stopped me before. Sex with strangers is far less complicated," she murmured. When Quinn looked at her, she saw her laughing. "Some people have it as a bucket list thing. Sex on a plane."

She wouldn't stop. Quinn knew she wouldn't stop. She sighed and made a show of putting her headphones in. She could still hear Santana's laugh through her audiobook.

Two hours into the flight, and Quinn couldn't help but think about what Santana had said. A partner covering your mouth. Sex in public. It was a bucket list thing for her. And after a week with her mother, Quinn really needed a little release. When Quinn looked at Santana, she was playing a game on her phone. Quinn let out a long sigh and took her headphones out. She'd have to backtrack the entire book, having been thinking about this for so long. She slowly wrapped her headphones around her phone and stored it in her purse, then looked at Santana. The other woman didn't look at her, but Quinn saw the corner of her mouth tug up in a grin, and she stopped playing her game.

Quinn stood and walked slowly to the small bathroom. At least most people were asleep. Quinn was sure she wouldn't be able to do this if people looked at her. She slipped into the bathroom and closed the door, but didn't lock it. She took a couple steadying breaths, and turned when she felt someone tugging on the bathroom door. Santana slipped inside and locked the door. With the two of them, there was hardly room to move without tripping back over the toilet.

Still, somehow, Santana turned and pinned Quinn back against the small shelf with the sink. Santana's soft, full lips pressed against Quinn's. The kiss claimed Quinn. Her back arched as she pushed herself up onto the shelf behind her. She felt Santana smirk against her lips as soft hands pushed up her shirt. Suddenly Santana's fingers were deftly unbuttoning Quinn's jeans. Quinn didn't usually do hook-ups, so she didn't know how this was supposed to work. Of course, there wouldn't be foreplay in a bathroom. Earlier... that was the foreplay. Quinn gasped. Santana's fingers had found their way under Quinn's underwear and were already dragging through her wetness.

"Shh...." Santana reminded her. Her lips were still working against Quinn's. She took advantage of Quinn's gasp to push her tongue past her lips. Two of Santana's fingers pushed inside of her. A little too easily, perhaps. She was soaking wet. And Santana was damn proud of herself for that. Her thumb settled over Quinn's clit and rubbed tight circles while her fingers curled. Quinn broke the kiss when her head fell back, hitting hard against the plastic walls of the small stall. Santana's free hand came up to cover Quinn's mouth just in time to muffle a moan. Quinn gripped the shelf beneath her and rolled her hips. She was incredibly desperate for her release. This whole encounter had her closer to her edge so quickly. Santana changed her angle slightly and pressed a little harder over Quinn's mouth. Quinn couldn't control that moan, either. She bit down slightly on Santana's hand to try and keep her moan in, and before she knew it her orgasm was pulled out of her. Santana replaced her hand with her mouth and kissed her through the orgasm. She only pulled back as Quinn's body relaxed.

"God..." Quinn sighed. She was breathing hard.

Santana pulled back from her and removed her fingers. She sucked them clean, her eyes on the blonde. She moaned lowly. "Too bad we don't have more room in here." She murmured. She kissed Quinn again, quickly this time. "I'll give you a moment to collect yourself." With that, Santana unlocked the door and slipped out of the stall. Quinn took only a minute before fixing herself and going back to their seat.

Santana was still smirking, but she looked much more relaxed. Her gaze was directed out of the window, but she turned to watch Quinn sit down. Quinn stretched and relaxed back before closing her eyes. She started to chuckle a little bit. "I really needed to relax..." she whispered.

Santana nodded. "Everyone needs to let loose once in a while," she said.

Quinn just smiled and dozed off. As the plane landed, Santana gathered her things. She studied Quinn for a moment, who was finally waking up. She looked like she had slept a whole night in those couple hours. "So... I live in Bed-Stuy." Santana raised her eyebrows. "Any interest in getting a drink with me?"

Quinn looked up from her phone. She raised her eyebrows, then grinned. "That sounds great, provided the drink is at your place."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Quinn lowered the weapon in her hand. With the clip empty, she set it down and hit the button to bring the target towards her. She smiled to herself and removed her ear plugs. All her shots were clustered perfectly in the center.

“A week off and you still have the best shot on the squad.” Sam Evans had safety glasses on just like Quinn. “Here I thought I might stand a chance against you now,” he laughed.

Quinn just shrugged. “If a week without my gun would throw me off, we’d have a bigger problem, Evans.”

Sam laughed. “Captain told me to come get you. The new detective starts today, and he wanted to remind you to be nice.” Sam grinned, the same grin he gave witnesses, lawyers, and journalists when he was trying to soften his words. “But that does mean I don’t have to keep switching back and forth between you and Puck.”

Quinn sighed and started to pack up her things. “I’m not in the mood to break in a new detective. You sure we can’t make Puckerman do it?”

“Cap said you’d say that. And Cap said that no, you can’t stick the new detective with Puckerman. He learned his lesson when you came back on your first day with sexual harassment claims. The new detective is a woman.”

Sam had Quinn’s attention now. “Seriously? Can’t wait to hear those jokes. Two women working together on homicide… Either the brass is finally starting to realize we can do this job, or Cap did this one without clearing it with them.”

Sam took his safety glasses off and stored them, and Quinn did the same. “My money would be on the last one you said.”

“You always make the safe bet.”

“And it’s never failed me.”

Back at her desk, Quinn looked down at the growing pile of paperwork. It’d been slow since she got back a week ago. Sam and Puck took most of the calls, since Quinn didn’t technically have a partner. And whenever she tried to pull her attention back to paperwork, it would slip back to the restless night she spent with Santana. Quinn got into work almost late that day, after leaving Santana’s apartment early in the morning. They hadn’t exchanged numbers. Quinn had been regretting that decision.

“Yo! Fabray!”

Quinn looked up to find Puck and Sam both staring at her. Puck smirked. “I know that dazed look. It’s the same one Sammy gets after he’s late to work. He’s only late to work when he doesn’t spend the night at his place. And the same one I get like… all the time.” He shrugged, and Sam grinned at him.

“Oh yeah? You’ve been pretty focused lately. Having some troubles, buddy?”

“Shut up, dude. Anyway. Who’s the dude, Quinn? Or chick?” Puck sat up more, looking eager.

“Dream on, Puckerman." Quinn muttered, her eyes already back on the paperwork. Puck opened his mouth, but Quinn's hand was already in the air. "And don’t share it."

“Damn… Not even a threat today. It must have been good.”

“What was good?” a smooth voice interrupted. All three heads snapped towards the door, and Quinn’s stomach dropped.

“Fabray here just clearly had a good night.” Puckerman said as he stood up. “But clearly not as good of a day as I'm having, with you walking in here." His voice was smoother than the banter before, his speech a little more clear. "Did you need help? Our duty is to serve..." He smirked, his eyes dropping down her form. Even in a detective's basic suit, Quinn could see Santana's perfect curves - and Puck clearly could as well.

Santana raised one eyebrow as she studied him. "Okay..." she sighed. Her eyes fell to the desk he was leaning against, finding his nameplate. "Puckerman." Quinn saw her eyes narrow, and she sensed what was about to happen before Santana continued. "First, if I ever catch your eyes on any part of my body that you wouldn't stare at if I were a dude..." Sam laughed, and shook his head slightly. Santana's featured softened for just a moment. "Okay, if I had the same physique as Chief of Ds," she amended, "I will give you a very thorough lesson on the effects of a taser. Second, I assure you, there is absolutely nothing you can do for me except show me where your captain's office is. My name is Santana Lopez."

Puck was so dumbfounded, he gaped at Santana. Sam was already doubled over laughing, and he had to compose himself before he walked up to Santana. "Oh. Welcome to the squad. We're going to be great friends. Captain Singh's office is at the end of that hall," he said, pointing past Quinn. Santana's back was still turned to her, and Quinn stood up.

When their eyes met, Santana's widened for a moment, a small smirk tugged on her lips, then it fell. "I'm Quinn Fabray. I'm your new partner," she said, extending a hand towards her.

Santana stared at the offered hand for a moment before taking it. "Lopez." Once dropping her hand, she decided to grin a little bit. "So... this good night. When was it? How good was it? Was it like... earth shattering?"

Quinn's eyes widened for a brief moment before she just scoffed. "Please. Go talk to the captain. The sooner you do, the sooner I can actually leave my desk," she sat down and now just stared at her paperwork unseeing, only thinking 'shit, shit, shit, shit, shit'.

* * *

Quinn stared at the same spot on the paper until she heard Santana emerge from her brief talk with the captain. She stood and walked to the restroom. Her and Santana were the only women in the squad, meaning they'd only ever share a bathroom with each other. The door hadn't closed completely behind her before Santana pushed it back open, following her in and locking the door. They both stood there for a moment, staring at each other, before Santana just started to laugh.

Quinn narrowed her eyes at her. "Santana, this isn't funny," she hissed. "We're... partners. We're supposed to have each other's back not... you know..."

"Screw each other from behind?" Santana supplied unflinchingly. 

"Shut up," Quinn hissed over Santana's laughter. Santana, of course, stepped closer. Quinn, for some reason, didn't pull away when Santana braced herself on the sink behind Quinn.

"No one can hear us, Quinn. We could... talk..." she grinned "freely." Then, she pulled away and laughed again. "Relax, Fabray. I've been fighting for a transfer to homicide for ages. I'm not going to screw that up by someone catching us screwing around. That was a..." she swallowed hard. "Great night. But it was supposed to be just a one time thing, right?"

Quinn let out a breath when Santana pulled away. Images of Santana's fingers buried inside of her while she sat on that sink were already drowning her. "Okay," she said, nodding. "So we just... pretend it never happened?" she asked. 

Santana nodded, slipping her hands into her suit pockets. "That's... really our only choice. I get the sense that Puckerman would never drop it. And that the captain might be a little uptight about the whole situation. I've got your back out there. We'll... be fine."

Quinn nodded her agreement, but she heard the hesitation Santana said about them being fine. She wouldn't be able to completely forget it all either. And she wasn't sure she wanted to.


End file.
